


The First Choice

by RingingSilence



Series: Princess Bride AU [1]
Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Implied Character Death, Manipulation, Princess Bride AU, low-key pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-26
Updated: 2020-12-26
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:27:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28326798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RingingSilence/pseuds/RingingSilence
Summary: In most stories, the arrival of the local lord on the hero’s humble doorstep would have been a good omen. The visitor would bow, confess their love or offer adventure, and whisk the hero away to their happily ever after.This, unfortunately, was not one of those stories.(The Princess Bride AU that no one asked for)
Relationships: Martin Blackwood & Jonathan Sims
Series: Princess Bride AU [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2027389
Kudos: 25





	The First Choice

In most stories, the arrival of the local lord on the hero’s humble doorstep would have been a good omen. The visitor would bow, confess their love or offer adventure, and whisk the hero away to their happily ever after.

This, unfortunately, was not one of those stories.

When the Lord Jonah Magnus of Florin approached him, Jon was mucking out the dingey stall of his sole remaining cow. It was filthy, tiring, time-consuming work but it wasn’t safe to leave her alone out in the pasture all the time and he’d sold the rest of the herd. He would have sold her too but she was good with the plow. 

Besides, Martin would never have forgiven him for getting rid of his favorite.

They must have made quite an unimpressive image: Jon, dressed in threadbare coveralls and wielding a pitchfork that was missing tines while the Lady Emily mouthed gently at his braid that he kept meaning to hack off but never found time for. Lord Magnus smiled at them from the stall doorway, and something about his expression made Jon’s blood run cold. In another story he would have washed the dust from his hands and invited Magnus into the farmhouse up the hill for fresh tea and biscuits.

Instead, his first words to the noble were: “get out”.

He should have been offended but if anything Magnus seemed amused. “Jonathan Sims, correct? This is a quaint little farm.”

Jon did not take his eyes off of the intruder. He didn’t need to in order to see the cracks between warped, ancient boards and dust motes dancing in the light they let in. Didn’t need to see the two other stalls (empty) and the hole the mule had kicked in the wall when Jon had tried to tack him up alone back when Martin had just left. Lady Emily was much easier to handle, anyway. Jon knew how it looked, how all of it looked, and the reminder made his chest ache. “What do you want?”

“Straight to the point? Very well.” Magnus pulled a pristine envelope from his spotless overcoat’s pocket. “I came to make a…business arrangement. You see, I recently purchased your debts—“

“The next payment isn’t due until next month. Rentoul—“

“Please, allow me to finish.” Magnus didn’t stop smiling but a cold gleam stole into his gaze and his shoulders pulled back into a cruel line.

Jon knew a threat when he saw one and fell silent. 

“As I was saying, I purchased your debts in the hopes that you and I could make a deal. I have the resources to make these expenses disappear. No more debt collectors, no more scraping by.”

“And in exchange?”

“I have many achievements, but the one thing I lack is an heir. Come with me and I will prepare you to be named Lord Jonathan Magnus, heir to Florin.”

In another story, such an offer would have been a life-changing miracle. Jon knew better. “Me? You want me to be your heir?”

“Trust me, there is no one better-suited to my needs.”

Jon laughed and nearly backed into the cow. “I’m no noble. I’m not even a rich merchant. I am just a farmer with land that barely grows enough to get by. What could possibly make me even remotely what you are looking for?”

“I need someone from your…unique background. You don’t carry the, shall we say, personal baggage of someone from a high-born family.”

“You want me because I’m not a noble? Because I have a different perspective?”

“I need someone the people would rise up for, fight for.” Magnus grinned. “Why not a man of the people?”

A patch of mud on Jon’s cheek, dry and cracked, began to itch. “But I’m just me. Surely even among the peasantry you can find someone better-attributed.”

“No, Jon. You are exactly what I am looking for. Of course if you do not wish to accept I will not pressure you. You have your own responsibilities and interests to pursue, and perhaps you even enjoy this mundane life.”

Jon took a deep breath and looked around at the old barn. Lady Emily nudged his hip, looking for the grain he sometimes brought for treats. “And if I accept, what happens to the farm?”

“Left alone, just as you wish. No one would dare to bully a lord’s heir after all.”

Around them the barn continued to stand silent and nearly empty. Once, there had always been noise: chickens strutting underfoot, the mule cribbing on anything he could get his teeth on, the creak of Martin up in the hayloft or cleaning a stall or murmuring nonsense to the cows, ‘it gets them to produce more milk, Jon!’. Now though, it was quiet and lifeless, slowly falling apart despite Jon’s best efforts to keep going. 

As though sensing the line of his thoughts, Magnus lowered his voice. “You can’t keep this up forever, Jon. Eventually you’re going to have to let go.”

Jon turned his back on the lord to scratch the Lady’s forehead. Her eyes were so warm, so friendly. It made his heart ache. “…The farm will be preserved?”

“Exactly as it is.”

He leaned against her, imagining a broad chest and strong arms and a warm voice in his ear. He thought of the lonely kitchen table, covered with bills more often than meals because no one was around to notice if he skipped a meal here or there to cut down costs or because he was out from before the sun rose to long after it set. He thought of the creaky chair, turned so on the rare occaisions he did sit down he wouldn’t have to stare at the dusty kettle and the letter hidden beneath it in the shadow of the sink. _Dear Mr. Sims, we at the Lukas Trading Company regret to inform you…_

He’d had to force himself not to cling to Martin’s sleeve the morning he’d left. He wondered every day what would have happened if he had. 

_“One of us has to go. It might as well be me. I’ll send you a letter at the first port, yeah?”_

He couldn’t let Martin’s choice, Martin’s sacrifice, be in vain. Besides, if he went maybe…maybe he could change things, make things better for others like him. He could save others from making the same choices. He gently pushed away from the cow and scrubbed dirt from his face. “Alright…alright. I’ll do it.”

**Author's Note:**

> Figured I'd go back before continuing to the fun parts. Happy Holidays!


End file.
